


Who Said Seven Was Lucky?

by scribbling_desk



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Angst, Happy Ending, Harvey being an idiot, Ignores the end of season 1 and anything after, M/M, Mike having a spine, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2096223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribbling_desk/pseuds/scribbling_desk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike drains the last of his scotch, sets the glass down firmly on the top of the bar, and walks up to where Harvey and Jessica are saying goodbye. “I can’t do this anymore. I quit. I’m leaving the Serious train. I’m abandoning ship. I’m giving up. I’m surrendering. I’m walking out. I’m outta here. Have a nice life. Harvey, fuck you and your blonde-34C-legs up to here-very female-bartender-slash-model.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mike

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt quite a while back on the Suits kink meme that I have sadly lost the link to. Originally posted there.

It started the way everything between them started. Mike inadvertently found himself in trouble, Harvey discovered it, they argued and then they deviated from the norm because Harvey decided to kiss him instead of sending Mike to work on a pro bono case that Jessica had tried to foist off onto Harvey. So, started normal, then went Weird and Wacky. And Mike was fine with that, he really was, because sex with Harvey Specter? _The_ Harvey Specter? Uh, wow. Just, wow. And it was good, really good, and when it went from Weird and Wacky to down-right Serious, well, Mike was fine with that too, because quite often, he carried proof of Harvey’s feelings around with him in the form of the finger shaped bruises on his hips, and the love-bites that bloomed on his shoulders. He had the tenderness in his arse from where Harvey had taken him, but most of all he had the memories.

After one month of being Serious, Mike mentions that they should tell someone (Donna doesn’t count, because she knew before they did that they were Weird and Wacky, and then she knew that they were Serious before they got onto _that_ particular train) and Harvey says no. Mike understands, he does. It takes courage to come out when you’ve spent your entire life chasing skirt, and while Harvey may have the arrogant courage of the best closer in New York, he’s still a guy, still _human_. It’s going to take time.

So Mike waits.

Month two of Serious comes and goes. Then three. Four. Five.

Then they hit month seven, and whoever said seven was a lucky number ought to be shot, drawn and quartered, because they _lied_. They lied Big Time. Because at month seven of Serious, everything goes to hell.

~*~

Pearson Hardman have this thing they do where if someone bags three high profile clients in a row, within the space of a week, they have a shindig. And we’re talking Shindig with a capital S. Everyone, from Jessica down to the paralegals (and, hey, there’s paralegals aside from Rachel, who knew?) take over a bar near the office, and they celebrate. It takes a lot of work to earn this Shindig, though, and when Mike does earn it at month seven of Serious, he doesn’t realise it at first. He’s had what feels like only four hours sleep total the past week, he’s barely seen Harvey, and to him, this feels like the perfect time for him and Harvey to come out. So, he suggests it to Harvey the morning of the Shindig, which is coincidentally fifteen minutes after he finds out from Donna that he’s earned it.

Harvey doesn’t take it well. In fact, Harvey throws him out of his office, and later, when he stumbles across Mike in one of the file rooms, banishes him to the seedy little courtyard at the back of the office where no one goes because it gets no sunlight and to get to it, you have to go through the janitor’s domain, which is just a big no for anyone who works at Pearson Hardman.

But the banishment is something Mike’s used to. It’s Normal. It was Normal before Weird and Wacky came into their lives, and it was Normal when they jumped into Serious. What _isn’t_ Normal, however, is the way Harvey takes three steps back when Mike reaches out towards him, with an expression on his face that’s not quite disgust and not quite anger.

Mike…Mike’s not quite sure what to call that or how to react to it.

~*~

Since the person Mike is Serious with is refusing to acknowledge that they’re Serious, Mike goes stag to the Shindig.

Harvey doesn’t agree, because Harvey brings the blonde, 34C, legs up to _here_ , very female bartender-slash-model that they encountered the previous week when they were wooing a client. In the words of Howard, she’s “smokin’ hot”, and when Mike sees her draped on Harvey’s arm, he almost drops the glass of scotch he’s holding because the bad feeling he’s been having all day has solidified into a realisation that lucky month seven of Serious is, in fact, the hand-basket that Serious is using to go to hell.

Thankfully, the scotch is saved by Donna’s quick reflexes. Mike’s heart? That’s not so lucky. He’s pretty sure that Louis – who’s on the far side of the bar trying to get into a Senior Partner’s good graces – heard the splat Mike’s heart made as it connected with the ground.

If you asked Mike had happened during the rest of the Shindig, he wouldn’t be able to tell you, unless it had something to do with Harvey. He’s focused on Harvey, every nerve, every cell, every second of his existence that night is devoted to the closer, and the way he leans in towards blonde-34C-legs up to _here_ -very female-bartender-slash-model, whispers in her ear, smirks at her, presses soft lips to the back of her hand, and _whispers in her ear_. Even with Mike’s super!brain, he wouldn’t be able to tell you what he said when Rachel and Jessica urged him to make a speech, but he would be able to tell you the way the light fell across Harvey’s hair, the way his mouth quirked in a small smile as he murmured to blonde-34C-legs up to _here_ -very female-bartender-slash-model the whole time.

Eventually, the Shindig starts to break up. It’s gone midnight, it’s a Friday, everyone’s had a long week (some more than others), and everyone’s had a good time, especially Harvey and his blonde-34C-legs up to _here_ -very female-bartender-slash-model. There are only two people that haven’t. Mike, because the hand basket the Serious train is in isn’t exactly comfortable right now, and Donna because she’s been trying to prevent Mike from drowning his sorrows.

It’s gone two in the morning when Mike discovers that only he, Jessica, Donna, the bartender, Harvey and blonde-34C-legs up to _here_ -very female-bartender-slash-model are left.

Mike drains the last of his scotch, sets the glass down firmly on the top of the bar, and walks up to where Harvey and Jessica are saying goodbye. “I can’t do this anymore. I quit. I’m leaving the Serious train. I’m abandoning ship. I’m giving up. I’m surrendering. I’m walking out. I’m outta here. Have a nice life. Harvey, fuck you and your blonde-34C-legs up to _here_ -very female-bartender-slash-model.”

The door closes behind Mike, cutting off Donna’s squawk (which she will deny she made for the next several years), and for the first time in the three years Mike’s been working for Harvey, he finds himself unemployed.

~*~

The phone calls start just before lunch time, and Mike lets every one of them go to voicemail, watching with his chin on arms as his cell vibrates its way across the apartment every five minutes. At 5pm, Mike finally gives up on his cell and pulls out his laptop, emailing Jessica his resignation to make it official. He’s somewhat surprised to get an immediate response, asking if he’s sure. He simply replies with ‘So long, and thanks for all the fish.’ There’s an hour of silence, and he’s not sure if she gets the reference, but then she sends a ‘Don’t lose your towel.’, and Mike knows that she gets it, and not just the reference.

On Sunday, he gets the pounding on his front door on top of the phone calls. He doesn’t experience it, though, only hearing about it from his neighbours because he’s spending the day with his Grams. Judging by the descriptions provided by his neighbour, it’s Rachel and Donna.

When Monday morning rolls around, he’s been contacted in some form by everyone from the office, except one. Harvey.

~*~

A week passes. Going from over-employed to unemployed is like jumping from a hot spring into arctic waters with only a second between. Mike’s not quite sure what to do with himself, and finds himself spending more and more time with Grams when he isn’t applying for jobs. Donna finds him there on Wednesday evening, and the three of them spend two hours playing bridge with a couple of others from down the corridor. On Friday evening, a week to the day that Mike declared that this was his stop, Rachel joins the bridge group, and on Sunday, they inadvertently start an all-day bridge tournament.

The second week passes, with bridge on Wednesday and Friday evenings, and another bridge tournament on Sunday.

There’s still been no contact from Harvey.

His bed, which when things were Normal, was perfect, and when it was Weird and Wacky was 50% of the time occupied, and when it was Serious was _never_ occupied, seems incredibly empty and cold. His apartment, which had started to have a neglected feel to it before the Shindig, seems cramped, tiny, and far from comforting. Trevor and Jenny are merely memories from a previous life, and the one he’d replaced them with has been consumed in a fiery death. The only reason why he hasn’t gone and done something stupid is because Grams, Rachel and Donna are the only ones keeping him from it.

Mike’s not happy, he’s not content, and he’s pretty sure that the train he’s hopped on is heading the same direction as what the Serious train was. Hell.

Mike gets a job in the fourth week. The grandson of one of Grams’ friends in the home works at the New York Public Library, and Mike soon finds himself wandering the stacks of the main branch in Manhattan, fingers brushing across the spines, breathing in the smell of paper and history. He’d spent a lot of time in libraries growing up, when Trevor wasn’t dragging him out of them, and returning to one now fills the gaping hole in his heart a little. A little, as in one pixel in an 1680x1050 picture.

Mike throws himself into the books, into the knowledge piled in reach of his fingertips, and for the first week, he forgets that he was once associate to the best closer in the city, that he once worked for Pearson Hardman, that he had led a double life. He _forgets_ , and it feels good.

But this is Mike, and the train he’s on won’t let him forget its destination, because at the end of his first week at NYPL, the flu goes around the home, and Grams falls sick. His new boss is compassionate enough to understand why he doesn’t come into work, why he spends his time at his Grams’ side.

Three days after Grams falls sick, she dies.

~*~

The morning of Grams’ funeral, Mike finds himself wandering the city. He feels…he’s not sure what he feels, but he knows that he hasn’t felt like this since his parents died. Lost, would be a good word. Alone would be another. He’s not sure where he’s going in the city, he just peddles, uncaring of the fact that he’s wearing ratty jeans and a too-large Harvard hooded sweatshirt that he’d pinched off Harvey.

Eventually, he ends up in front of the library, and he crouches down, staring up at the two lions that guard the entrance to the building. He’s always liked them, calling them the ‘guardians of all knowledge’, and he wishes that they were able to tell him what he was to do now, where he was to go, who he had left, because Grams was his only family and now she’s gone.

The streets are just starting to get busy when he feels the familiar heat of Harvey next to him. He studies the older man out of the corner of his eye, noting how the man’s jaw-line is softened, the smug, arrogant look missing, and shoulders relaxed in a Harvard hooded sweatshirt that matches the one Mike’s wearing. This is the man he was Serious with, this is Harvey the Lover, unlike the man who’d rocked up to the Shindig with blonde-34C-legs up to _here_ -very female-bartender-slash-model. Harvey the Lawyer isn’t in sight right now, and Mike feels an inexplicable flare of anger.

Harvey’s the one that breaks the silence, and even his voice is lacking the sharp edges of Harvey the Lawyer. “Donna told me about your grandmother.” Mike stays silent. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Mike bounces slightly in his crouch, eyes back on the lions, on Patience and Fortitude. “What do you want, Harvey?”

“I want…” Harvey trails off.

Mike feels a small smile play at the corners of his lips, and knows that it’s bitter-looking. “Want what, Harvey?”

“Why’d you leave?” Harvey’s voice is quiet, his pronunciation of words as relaxed as his shoulders. It’s an aspect of the man that Mike found fascinating when they were Serious, this differentiation between Harvey the Lover and Harvey the Lawyer.

“There wasn’t any reason to stay.” Mike finally answers, standing up. He glances at Harvey again, and is somewhat surprised at the dark circles under his eyes. Looks like Mike wasn’t the only one having difficulty sleeping in an empty bed. Good.

“So, you just throw your entire future away on a whim?” Harvey the Lawyer is starting to appear as the corner of Harvey’s jaw sharpens. “Down a couple of drinks and throw in the towel?”

Mike snorts. He can’t help it, really. “We both know that there wasn’t really a future for me there, Harvey. No degree, remember? They would have found out eventually. And yes, I downed a couple of drinks, but I didn’t throw in the towel.” He turns and swings a leg over his bike. He needs to get back to his apartment and get ready. Donna and Rachel are picking him up in an hour and a half. 

Harvey reaches out and grips Mike’s arm before he can push off. “I love you.”

Mike slowly looks between Harvey and Harvey’s hand on his arm before pushing off, breaking Harvey’s grip, and riding down the street. His actions say what his throat couldn’t. Too little, too late, Harvey.

~*~

Much like the Shindig, Mike doesn’t remember much about the funeral. He remembers Donna standing to his left and Rachel to his right. He remembers laying the lily – Grams’ favourite – on the coffin. He remembers looking up and thinking he sees Harvey standing by a tree on the outskirts of the group of old-timers, but dismisses it as wishful thinking, an after-effect of the unsettling encounter from earlier in the morning.

The home holds a bridge tournament in honour of Grams after the funeral, and everyone gets involved, swapping stories of friends and family lost to time over the cards. Rachel tells everyone about her older brother, who died in Iraq. Donna tells about her father, a cop who was shot in the line of duty. Slowly, bit by bit, they drag out the story of his parents from Mike, and then it all just comes spilling out of his mouth. Mum, Dad, Gramps, Grams…the stories and memories just tumble into the open, and there are tears slowly tracking their way down his cheeks, and they’re all laughing over Grams’ attempts at making meatloaf, the one dish she always failed at making, and making the oven explode.

That night, when Mike falls into bed, it doesn’t seem as cold, the memories of Grams wrapped around him like the old blue blanket that used to sit on the arm of the couch.

The bed’s still empty, though, and when Mike wakes in the morning, his apartment is once more cramped and comfortless.

~*~

There’s something about the silence of the library, Mike discovers, that seems to suck the pain and loneliness out of a person. Or at least it sucks it out of a person so that it can join the pain and loneliness of those that have traipsed it’s halls before Mike, because he has no doubt that there were others like him, who escaped to the high ceilings and stacks of books to find some comfort.

Mike’s first day back is quiet, and not quiet as in lack of things to do, but quiet as in no one speaks to him. It’s a change from when he was at Pearson Hardman, where he always had associates rushing up to him, asking for help, where he always had Harvey ordering him about and Louis trying to wrest him away from the other lawyer. It’s peaceful, the lack of need to talk, and he forgets that there’s other people until he steps out of the doors at the end of his shift and into the bustling city.

Mike watches the people scurrying about, the cars riding one another’s bumpers, and his brain tries to connect _them_ with the world of words and paper he left behind. He fails, and he’s still standing there when his boss comes out an hour later.

Flynn’s an oddity. He has an eidetic memory, which is where any similarity between he and Mike ends, because Flynn has several degrees despite being in his early thirties, and the man lacks the social skills necessary to function in any sort of capacity outside of the library, which is why his greeting – if it can be called that – almost shocks Mike into falling over.

“You can take some comfort from the books, Mike, but if you’re not careful, you’ll give too much of yourself to them, and lose any and all sense of reality.” Flynn’s staring out over the still bustling street, and Mike’s not sure whether to look at him or the crowd. “The world we’re caretakers of is simply a construct of those out here, Mike. Even Alice had to come back.” Flynn squeezed his shoulder and walked off, his own satchel slung over his shoulder.

Mike’s still unsettled from Flynn’s parting comments when he sees the parcel sitting on his doorstep. It’s surprising, because he wasn’t expecting anything, and also because no one’s pinched it yet. He stands there, staring at it, for several minutes before cautiously nudging it with a foot. It doesn’t explode, so he shrugs, unlocks his door and pushes it inside. It sits beside the front door as Mike dumps his bag and changes, and it’s still there when he finishes his dinner. Eventually, though, he has to open it, so he does.

At the sight of the contents, he loses his balance and falls from his crouch, landing hard enough on his arse that he knows he’ll be feeling it the next day. It’s a blanket. It shouldn’t be as shocking as it is, but it’s his – _their_ – blanket. The one he bought specifically to keep on the couch in Harvey’s apartment for the nights when they curled up to watch Star Trek DVDs. Harvey had initially teased him about it, but on the nights when Mike would stumble into the apartment late due to Louis, he’d find Harvey curled up under it, sound asleep. There’s a note sitting on top of the folded blanket, folded in two with his name on it, and he opens it.

‘ _You looked like you’d need the comfort more than I do right now. I know you don’t believe me, but I do love you, and I am sorry._ ’

Mike unfolds the blanket and wraps it around him with trembling hands, burying his nose in it and taking a deep breath. It smells like Harvey, and the small knot of loneliness and pain he’d been carrying since the night of the Shindig loosens a tiny bit.

When Mike goes to bed, he takes the blanket with him.

~*~

“Sweetheart, you look like shit.”

Mike blinks at Donna sleepily, one hand absently moving the spoon in his coffee while the other props his chin up. He’d slept with the blanket for two nights, but had then set it aside for the previous night. The resultant two hours sleep he’d gotten had been restless. “If you’re expecting thanks, you’re not going to get it.”

Donna waves a hand. “I don’t require thanks for an observation.” She turns her head to look over at Rachel, who had just slid into the seat beside her. “He looks like shit, doesn’t he?” Rachel studies Mike for a moment, before nodding in agreement. Donna turns back to Mike. “Are you going to be up for bridge tonight, or are you going to be falling asleep at the table like you are now?”

Mike scowls. “I’m not falling asleep.”

Rachel reaches out and pats Mike on the head. “Sure you’re not. Now, it’s been over a month, so can someone _please_ explain to me what the hell happened that caused you to walk out of PH?”

Donna raises her brows at the other woman in shock. “You don’t know?”

Rachel looks between the two of them. “Should I?”

“Rachel, darling, the entire _firm_ knows.”

Mike groans. “Please tell me they don’t.”

“Considering that you told Harvey to go fuck himself, yes.” Donna frowns at Rachel. “How did you not know that?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “I knew _that_ , but what I don’t know is the story behind it. So, someone clue me in here?”

Donna takes a deep breath and explains the entire situation to the younger woman, which kind of surprises Mike, because while he knew that she knew that he and Harvey were Serious, he didn’t know that she knew why Serious had derailed into Go Fuck Yourself and a fiery death. 

By the time Donna finishes the recitation, Rachel’s eyes are wide and she’s pale and trembling. “That…that…that _bastard_! That two-timing, cowardly, emotionless rat-bastard!”

“He’s not emotionless.” The defence bursts out of Mike before he realises it, and he blushes slightly at the looks the women give him. “He’s just…Harvey.”

“That doesn’t give him the right to do what he did.” Rachel states firmly. “What’s the plan?”

Mike blinks. “Plan?”

“For revenge.”

Mike shakes his head. “There isn’t one.”

“You need to get revenge, Mike.” Rachel leans over the table, eyes focused on Mike and creeping him out slightly. “You need for him to realise that what he did was _wrong_.”

“I think…” Mike trails off uncertainly.

“You think?” Donna prompts.

“I think he’s realising that by himself.” Mike finishes quietly.

The women are silent for several long moments before Rachel speaks again. “You really love him, don’t you?” Mike nods and Rachel sighs. “Fine. No revenge.” She glances at her watch and yelps, jumping to her feet. “I’ve got a meeting that I’m going to be late for. I’ll see you tonight at the home!” She brushes a kiss against Mike’s cheek, and then Donna’s before rushing out of the coffee house.

“He loves you too, you know.” Donna informs him. “He’s been miserable since you left, and I don’t mean in a not-getting-any way, but more like someone killed his puppy.” Mike snorts, and Donna reaches out to wrap one of her hands around Mike’s. “I’m serious. When I saw him on the Monday morning, it was like he was broken. Not even the whole thing with Cameron made him look like that.” She paused. “Although, I suspect he spent the weekend throwing things, as he asked if I could find a crystal glassware set to replace his.”

Mike shakes his head. “It’s too late, Donna. Did you know that the first time he told me he loved me was the morning of Grams’ funeral? Not once did he tell me in all the time we were together. I can’t go back to that. I can’t go back to a relationship where I give everything I am and get lies and deceit in return. I might consider it if he stops running from himself, but this is Harvey we’re talking about, so we’re both going to have to get used to being without the other.” He squeezes her hand and then stands. “I’ll see you tonight.” He leaves before Donna has the chance to say anything.

~*~

There’s an envelope waiting for Mike when he gets back to his apartment after the bridge game at the home. There’s no postmark on it, and no stamp, just ‘Mike’ scrawled on the front in a familiar hand. Harvey’s hand.

Mike sits it on the kitchen counter, and goes about getting ready for bed. Dressed in soft flannel pants that are falling off his hips, he stares at the envelope for twenty minutes, then turns his back to it and crawls into bed. He tosses and turns, the envelope burning a hole in his mind the entire night, to the point where he gives up at dawn and breaks the seal.

_I’ll love you, dear, I’ll love you_

_Till China and Africa meet,_

_And the river jumps over the mountain_

_And the salmon sing in the street._

_I’ll love you till the ocean_

_Is folded and hung up to dry_

_And the seven stars go squawking_

_Like geese about the sky._

The poem feels like a punch to the gut. Mike recognises it, of course, it’s impossible not to. He remembers admitting to Harvey one night that he’d read all of Auden’s poems on a rainy weekend, and he remembers telling Harvey that _As I Walked One Evening_ was his favourite. Trembling, he goes to his wardrobe and rummages up The Box, the one that holds postcards his parents had sent him when they were on holiday, the one that holds the notes and letters his grandmother used to write for him and leave around the house. The poem gets tucked in the back, between his grandmother’s reminder to pick some milk up on the way home from school and the postcard his parents had sent from Miami, and then The Box gets pushed back into the corner of the wardrobe.

But while he may have opened it, read it, and tucked it away, it still burns a hole in his mind.

~*~

When Mike wakes up the day after getting the poem, he groans. It’s February 14th, Valentine’s Day, and he would like nothing more than to spend it in bed, head buried under a pillow, ignoring the world. Unfortunately, he had to work, so he got up, showered, ate, and biked to the library.

Marie, the woman who mans the front desk, breaks the heavy silence of the building as he heads up the stairs, yelling after him. His name echoes in the vaulted entrance, and the two of them wait for it to dissipate before Marie speaks again. “You’ve got a delivery.”

Mike gives her a sceptical look. “Excuse me?”

“A delivery.” Marie is grinning from ear to ear. “Up on your desk.”

“Should I be afraid?”

“Only of your sweetheart’s sense of humour.” Marie makes a shooing motion. “Go.”

Mike rolls his eyes but continues up the stairs and to his office. The door looks normal, right down to the ‘424’ printed across the top of the window, and the ‘Michael Ross’ nameplate underneath. Shrugging, he pushes it open, slings his bag into a corner and rounds the corner of his desk. Seeing the object sitting innocently on top, he drops into his seat with a groan, burying his face in his hands.

“Everything alright, Mike?”

Mike waves a hand at Flynn, not lifting his head. “Not really.”

“Okay. Do I want to know why there is an onion sitting on your desk?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll leave you to your misery.”

“Much appreciated.” Mike lifts his head as the door closes behind his boss, and he eyeballs the onion. It’s got a red ribbon tied around it, a tag attached, and Mike can see the familiar scrawl of Harvey’s on the paper. Tilting his head, he reads it, and can’t help the snort. ‘ _Emily, I love you_ ’.

“You know,” Mike addresses the onion. “I thought I was the one with the weird brain. Your presence here proves otherwise.”

~*~

Marie pounces on him at lunch, demanding an explanation to the onion and the note. Mike pulls a face. “It’s a long story.”

Marie drops into the chair on the other side of Mike’s desk, tucking her feet up under her as she unwraps her sandwich. “We have a half an hour. Tell.”

“Every heard of the poet Carol Ann Duffy?” Marie frowns, thinking, then shakes her head. “Well, she’s a poet, obviously. She wrote a poem called _Valentine_ , where the person getting a gift is given an onion instead of a red rose.” Marie scrunches her nose as she takes a bite, and Mike sighs. “I know, sounds stupid, but if you know the poem…”

Marie swallows her mouthful. “Tell me?”

“ _Not a red rose or a satin heart._

_I give you an onion._

_It is a moon wrapped in brown paper._

_It promises light_

_like the careful undressing of love._

 

_Here._

_It will blind you with tears_

_like a lover._

_It will make your reflection_

_a wobbling photo of grief._

_I am trying to be truthful._

_Not a cute card or a kissogram._

_I give you an onion._

_Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,_

_possessive and faithful_

_as we are,_

_for as long as we are._

 

_Take it._

_Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,_

_if you like._

_Lethal._

_Its scent will cling to your fingers,_

_cling to your knife._ ”

Marie’s grinning as widely as she was in the morning when Mike arrived. “And the tag?”

“ _A Night in Casablanca_.” Mike admits grudgingly. “Exact line is ‘Send two dozen roses to Room 424 and put Emily, I love you on the back of the bill’.” Marie’s now giggling insanely, and Mike has to launch himself across the desk to catch her as she starts to slide out of her chair. “It’s not that funny, Marie.”

“No.” Marie pats his cheek as she calms down. “It’s outright adorable. He’s trying to win you back.”

Mike settles back behind his desk. “It’s not going to work. As I told Donna, I won’t take him back while he’s still running from himself, and considering who he is, that’s going to be never.”

Marie points at the onion sitting on a corner of the desk. “That is telling me that he’s starting to change his mind.”

Mike snorts. “You don’t know Harvey.”

~*~

Mike closes his apartment door behind him and leans back against it with a groan. He’d managed to spend most of Valentine’s Day hidden in his office, but he’d had to work the floor in the afternoon, ousting couples from their nooks. Now, he wanted nothing more than to curl up on his couch with the latest Richard Castle novel and forget that the day had ever happened.

Mike pushes away from the door and pulls out the onion, setting it on the kitchen bench, ribbon and tag still attached. Yawning, he strips off his shirt and moves to the bedroom, but stops when he notices a piece of paper attached to the bedroom door. Cautiously, he looks about his apartment to see if anything had been disturbed, and once satisfied that nothing had, reaches out to pluck the piece of paper off the door.

Once again, Harvey’s scrawl graces the front of it, and when Mike opens it, there’s two stanzas written, yet again from a familiar poem.

_Heart of the heartless world,_

_Dear heart, the thought of you_

_Is the pain at my side,_

_The shadow that chills my view._

 

_The wind rises in the evening,_

_Reminds that autumn is near._

_I am afraid to lose you,_

_I am afraid of my fear._

Mike touches the last two lines of the second stanza. He knows that there’s more to the poem, but also knows that it’s these two that Harvey needed. A drop lands on his hand, and he realises with a start that he’s crying, that there are tears slowly sliding down his cheeks to land on the ink. He swipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, suddenly angry at himself for feeling this way, at Harvey for _making_ him feel this way. He goes back to his bag and pulls out his phone, bringing up the screen for a new text message. Through the tears that are insisting on falling, he types out ‘Stop hiding behind other people’s words, Harvey’, and sends it to Harvey’s number, which is still number one on his speed dial. Once done, he tucks the poem in The Box, and then steps into the shower, letting the hot water conceal his tears.

Nothing, however, can conceal the shudders that the sobs cause, and eventually, he sinks to the floor of the shower, shaking too much to stand.

~*~

There’s nothing from Harvey for the next week. No poems, letters, onions…nothing. Donna’s got this look in her eye though, this twinkle that he hasn’t seen since he and Harvey were Serious, and it’s starting to worry Mike, because that twinkle had been present each and every time the woman had been a BAMF, or when she was watching _Harvey_ be a BAMF.

Another week passes, and Donna’s twinkle gets worse. Mike starts to wonder what’s going on, and then he walks into the library on a Wednesday morning to see Marie pouring over a magazine with one of the younger girls on staff. “Something must be interesting.”

Annie looks at him, eyes watery with tears, and she sniffs. “Oh, it’s so sad, but so sweet!”

“What is?”

“Harvey Spector, the best closer in NYC, and one of the most eligible bachelors has come out as gay!”

Mike’s jaw drops and he snatches the magazine from Marie, eyes going instantly to the screaming headline of the article. **_HARVEY SPECTOR GAY AND IN LOVE!_** “Oh, my god. Can I borrow this? Thanks.” Mike wonders up the stairs without waiting for an answer, scanning the article, sentences jumping out at him, making him feel like he was being hit over the head with one of the baseballs that graced Harvey’s office at PH. There were two, though, that drew his eyes more than the others.

_...I was afraid by how deeply I loved him, afraid of losing him, and in the end, that fear drove him from me. I can only hope that by facing who I truly am, that he can forgive me…_

Mike shuts his office door behind him and pulls out his phone. “Is he serious?” He asks as soon as Donna picks up.

“Deadly.”

Mike closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against his door. “Fuck. What do I do?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Do you love him?”

Mike takes a deep breath. “With every fibre of my being.”

“Well, there you go. Now, I have to do some work.” Donna hangs up.

~*~

Mike can’t concentrate the rest of the day and gives up trying two hours before he’s due to go home. Flynn gives him permission to go home early so he does, pacing the small apartment, trying to figure out what he wants to do. Harvey’s obviously stopped running, and the Serious train seems to have pulled into the station Mike’s currently occupying. The sight of it is as startling as it’s departure was, because he could have sworn it had, you know, been consumed in a fiery death.

Mike finds his phone in his hand and pressed against his ear before he realises it.

“Mike?” Harvey’s voice is gentle, filled with hope and _future_ , and it’s terrifying.

“I don’t…” Mike stares at his bookcase. “What do you want, Harvey?”

“You.” The answer is simple, and it’s the train doors opening for Mike, inviting him in. “No lies, no hiding, no running.”

“No blonde-34C-legs up to _here_ -very female-bartender-slash-model?” Mike asks uncertainly.

“Mike, love, I promise there was never anyone but you.”

“Liar.” Mike accuses. “I saw her. You brought her.”

“True.” Harvey admits. “But we parted ways as soon as you left the bar. Nothing happened. I’ve been too caught up in you since we started this relationship.”

“And since it ended?”

Harvey’s silent for several long moments. “Love, it never ended. Just took a detour.”

Mike chokes on a laugh. “Harvey…”

“Take me back, love. Say yes.”

Mike bites his bottom lip before speaking. “Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then another thousand, then a second hundred, then yet another thousand, then a hundred.”

“Catullus.” Harvey promptly responds. “And if I can’t hide behind another person’s words, neither can you.”

This time, the laugh actually sounds like a laugh. “Fine. Answer’s yes, you heartless bastard.”

“Considering my parents were married when they had me, I’m definitely not a bastard. As for heartless, well, considering that you’re currently holding my heart, I’d definitely say I was heartless.”

Mike hides his face in his free hand, glad no one’s there to see his blush. “Fine time for you to use your own words.”

“I thought it was the perfect time. Dinner?”

“What are we having?”

“Entrée is a face-to-face apology, and then I was thinking I might get started on those kisses.”

Mike laughs again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. And you won’t believe how much I regret not saying that to you earlier.”

“You’ll make up for it, starting tonight.”

“Deal. Jessica’s just walked in, I’ve got to go. Love you.”

“Say hello for me, and I love you too.” Mike pulls the phone from his ear as Harvey hangs up and he stares at it bemusedly before turning to look at the onion still sitting on the kitchen counter. “Well, onion, looks like my train’s finally finished with that detour.”

~*~


	2. Harvey

18 months after Mike starts working for him, Mike got into trouble, and as usual, Harvey found out about it. Why it happened with this argument Harvey didn’t know, because to be honest, it was virtually the same argument they’d had the week before, right down to how they were standing. Hell, it was the same argument they’d been having since Mike’s first day, but instead of handing Mike a pro bono case to work on afterwards, Harvey kissed him.

It wasn’t that Harvey hasn’t kissed males before, because he has. He has experience, he knows what he's doing with Mike in bed, he’s never hidden the fact that he slept with men, he just didn’t advertise it because he did have some class and, really, if Louis found out that Harvey wasn’t just attracting the females and could get both sexes into bed, the other man would probably die from inferiority. But there was a reason as to why he’s stuck with one night stands, never sleeping with the same woman – person – more than once. Scotty doesn’t count, because she isn’t human, she's like this thing that completely dominates anything and everything, much like a Klingon or a Dalek, and if Scotty ever found out he compared her to them, he’d be dead.

The reason why Harvey only does one night stands was remarkably simple. He failed at having relationships. Beyond failed at it, actually, as in crash and burned, fell into the depths of despair at the hopelessness of it all failed. He’d stopped having relationships not long after he started at Harvard, when his boyfriend at the time said ‘sorry, you’re too arrogant’ and walked away. It always ended that way. His boy/girl-friend would always go ‘sorry, you’re too [insert trait of your choice]’. He’d had insecure, arrogant, needy, flirty, smart and a whole host of others (not that he was keeping track, or anything).

So, the fact that Harvey was now in a relationship with his associate – with Mike – was…well, it was surprising and Harvey woke up every day expecting Mike to say ‘Sorry, you’re too ____’ and leave, even 11 months in when Harvey realises that Mike essentially lives with him.

Actually telling Mike all of this was just plain idiotic, so when Mike comes to him a year to the day after they’d started this relationship and suggests that they should tell someone (and not Donna, because she was Donna), Harvey says no and lets Mike assume that it’s because he’s not ready to ‘come out of the closet’.

Because Harvey’s Harvey and he’s not supposed to be terrified of being dumped and actually revealing to people about The Relationship would make it real, and Mike would _definitely_ then say 'Sorry, you're too ___'.

~*~

Six months after Harvey lets Mike assume that he’s being chicken shit about revealing his sexuality, the two of them have a psychotic week that involves clients, cases, paperwork, Mike bagging three – _three_ – high profile clients in a row and far too little sleep. Harvey blames the lack of sleep for his reaction to Mike’s suggestion that they come out at the resultant Shindig, because he’s pretty sure that the emphatic ‘No!’ and then kicking Mike out of his office to the file rooms isn’t something he normally would have done. Normally, he would have just looked at Mike, said that it wasn’t really a good idea, and then told him to find some work to do at the associate’s pen.

It takes a solid half an hour for Harvey to realise what he did, another three hours to work up the courage to dig Mike up out of the woodwork. He’s angry, and he’s disgusted, and both those are emotions are aimed at not only himself but also at Mike. It’s this giant ball of seething darkness in the pit of his stomach that he can’t make sense of, and when he ends up coming face to face with Mike and Mike reaches out automatically for his shoulder, a gesture that Harvey normally would have accepted, Harvey finds himself taking three steps backwards and orders Mike to the dingy courtyard at the back of the building.

Harvey sees Mike’s expression as though he were viewing it through binoculars, and when Mike flees for the courtyard, Harvey does as well, only he flees Pearson and Hardman completely and straight to Mary-Ann.

Harvey has known Mary-Ann since they were both kids. Her older brother was best friends with Harvey’s younger brother, and the two families had gotten close during the years. Harvey hadn’t really kept in touch with any of them, only getting updates on them through his brother, so when he and Mike had come face to face with Mary-Ann at a bar the previous week when they’d been wooing a client, Harvey had been dumbfounded because last he knew, she’d been over in LA. They hadn’t been able to talk, of course, but they’d managed to swap numbers with the intention of calling one another later in the week to catch up. It hadn’t happened, unfortunately, because things had suddenly gotten phenomenally busy at the firm.

Mary-Ann answers on the first ring, and quickly agrees to meet up for coffee at a café far enough away from the firm that Mike or anyone else were unlikely to encounter them. This means that Harvey’s the last one there, and as soon as he arrives, Mary-Ann throws her arms around his neck much like she’d done when she was four, exclaiming ‘Harvey!’ at the top of her lungs. They make small talk for a while, catching up on what one another’s been doing, and then when Harvey invites her to come along to the Shindig as his date, Mary-Ann gives him this _look_. Harvey starts to shift uncomfortably, because that look was something that not only his mother had given him but also Mary-Ann’s mother and it meant that she knew he had ulterior motives for asking her along. And he does, he wants her along to make sure that he doesn’t make a fool of himself with Mike _right there_ and ruin everything more than he already has.

“Fine.” Mary-Ann breaks the silence that had fallen between them. “But just so you know, I carry pepper-spray with me at all times. You even _attempt_ to put your hand near the hem of my skirt, and you won’t be able to see for a week.”

Harvey grins, because despite now looking like a blonde bombshell, she’s still the scrappy bitch she’d been growing up. “Deal.”

~*~

When Harvey arrives with Mary-Ann on his arm, he pretty much gets the reaction he’s expecting. Dropped jaws, stares and murmurs. Out of the corner of his eye, though, he sees Mike going white and the scotch glass he was holding sliding out of hand, saved only by Donna. Harvey feels his chest tighten at the stunned expression Mike’s wearing, and a sense of dread starts to rise. He takes one step towards his associate, intending on going over there and wrapping his arms around the man in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to Mike’s temple, but then he hears Louis sniping about something and he remembers with a snap where they are.

Harvey takes a step back, wraps an arm around Mary-Ann’s waist, and guides her through the crowd, pasting on a smile and hoping that it covers the shock he’s feeling over what he almost did. He’s always had better control than that, over his emotions _and_ his actions, but Mike’s been able to test that control long before they started The Relationship.

Harvey spends the rest of the night telling Mary-Ann about the people that work at the firm, their secrets, embarrassing moments, their desires and ambitions. He whispers the stories to her, smirks at her laughter, presses gentle kisses to the back of her hand whenever she manages to subtly insult Louis without the other man realising it. Even when Mike’s making his thank you speech, Harvey’s still murmuring stories in Mary-Ann’s ear, because if he didn’t, if he didn’t distract himself, he’d go right up to Mike and pull him into his arms, and he still can’t do that, he won’t.

By the time people start leaving, it’s gone midnight and not once has Harvey spoken to or gone within three feet of Mike. It stays that way right up until it’s just Harvey, Mary-Ann, Mike, Donna, Jessica and the bartender, until Mike downs a finger of scotch and marches right up to Harvey, eyes wide, wounded, but determined, face grim.

“I can’t do this anymore. I quit. I’m leaving the Serious train. I’m abandoning ship. I’m giving up. I’m surrendering. I’m walking out. I’m outta here. Have a nice life. Harvey, fuck you and your blonde-34C-legs up to _here_ -very female-bartender-slash-model.”

Donna lets out a sound similar to a kettle’s whistle and Harvey can do nothing but stare at the door that just closed behind Mike.

“Do I want to know what that was about?” Jessica asks mildly, breaking the silence that had fallen over them all.

Harvey takes a deep breath, surprised at how difficult it is. He stays silent, still staring sightlessly at the door Mike left through, torn between running after the man or staying and yelling.

A gentle touch to his arm draws Harvey’s attention, and he looks at Mary-Ann’s knowing expression. “Chicken-shit.” She says firmly before looking at Jessica. “It was lovely to meet you, Ms Pearson, Donna.” She frowns at Harvey and pinches his side with sharp nails and drawing a yelp before leaving.

Donna, on the other hand, gives a full glare, slaps him, and then leaves. Harvey makes a mental note through his shock to not trust any coffee she gives him for the next month.

“So,” Jessica murmurs. “That was interesting. Mind telling me about it?”

Harvey clenches his fists. “No.”

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with the _relationship_ between you and Mike, would it?” Her voice is mild, her face blank.

Harvey’s fingernails dig into his palms from a mixture of shock (she _knows_ , oh, fuck she knows) and anger (he _left_ ), and he leaves before he can do something that would result in him being fired.

~*~

Harvey doesn’t sleep that night. He paces from one end of his apartment to the other, not looking up from where his feet are going. If an object appears in his way, he simply turns and goes in another direction, and it means that by the time midday arrives on Saturday, he’s literally walked his entire apartment and is exhausted beyond belief. He falls onto his bed, still dressed in the suit he wore to the Shindig, and sleeps where he fell.

His sleep is restless, filled with dreams of him following someone, reaching out to them, and them vanishing just before he can touch. When he wakes early Sunday morning, he feels more exhausted than he was when he collapsed, and he’s starving. He stands in the middle of the kitchen for a solid hour, staring blankly at the two used wine glasses that are standing next to the sink, a reminder of Mike’s presence. The anger at Mike’s actions, at his own, suddenly rages through him, and the two wine glasses go flying across the kitchen to hit against the wall, shattering without protest. He’s breathing heavily, the broken pieces of glass winking up at him in the early morning light, and the anger is still raging through him. He reaches for the nearest cupboard and slams the doors, then grabs the glasses that are in there. He flings them against any surface nearby, plates, bowls, pots and pans following when he runs out of the crystal.

He doesn’t stop until his cupboards are empty, and he’s on his knees, breaths coming in tearless sobs. Around him, the crystal shards, shattered plates and bowls, and the pots and pans continue to reflect the sun, throwing light around the trashed kitchen.

Harvey’s still hungry and still dressed in the suit from the Shindig.

~*~

Harvey goes in to work on Monday morning feeling like a zombie, emotionally and physically. He quietly asks Donna if she could find him a replacement set for the crystal he broke the day before, and then spends the rest of the day in his office. He keeps expecting Mike to waltz in with a triumphant grin on his face whenever he looks at his office doors, and when he goes home that night, he feels worse than he did when he went in that morning.

The rest of the week passes much like Monday did, only he also has meetings with clients who ask after Mike. He hadn’t really realised that Mike had become such a fixture in his work, that his clients expected Mike to be with him whenever they met, but his lack of presence makes things feel off-kilter.

It’s not just work that feels wrong, it’s his apartment too. It had been just right for him before Mike had stumbled into his life, and then it had been perfect. Now, it’s just empty. His apartment, his bed, his _life_ – there’s nothing there anymore. It’s like when Mike stormed out of the bar he didn’t just take himself, he took everything Harvey is. Hell, he’d even taken Harvey’s past with him, because Harvey can’t even look at his signed basketballs and baseballs without seeing Mike playing with them. He can’t look at the Harvard coat of arms without seeing Mike in the Harvard sweatshirt the younger man had pinched not long after they started The Relationship. He can’t go visit his brother without thinking of the night he and Mike had talked about their families.

The second week passes, then a third, and then a fourth. He’s not sleeping more than three hours a night, his appetite has completely vanished – much like Mike did – and even Louis has stayed away from him. 

Then, on the Tuesday morning of the fifth week, Donna comes in red-eyed and weepy. She takes one look at him and forgets that she’s barely spoken to him since the Shindig, and throws herself into his arms, crying.

Mike’s grandmother has died and Harvey has to grab for his desk as his office tilts around him.

Harvey feels as though his entire world has been tipped on it’s side, so he has no idea how Mike is feeling. He’d only talked to Mike’s grandmother a few times, but she’d come across as a very strong, determined woman who could have easily taken over the US if she’d felt like it. The thought of her death had never crossed Harvey’s mind, and some part of it had thought that the old bat would live forever.

Her death feels like an omen. A bad one, and it’s not sitting too well with Harvey.

The night before the funeral, Harvey can’t sleep, not even for the usual three hours. He spends the darkness wondering his apartment, debating as to whether or not he wants to go find Mike. Eventually, he caves to the desire but when he gets to Mike’s apartment, he finds it empty.

Harvey leans against the wall opposite to Mike’s door, and slides down to the floor, hands buried in his hair. He _needs_ to find Mike, but since their split, Harvey can honestly say he doesn’t know the man anymore. He’d managed to get some information out of Donna, about how Mike’s coping, and the listless man she’d described doesn’t match the Mike he knows. Mike’s working in a _library_ , for Christ’s sake. A library!

Harvey’s head snaps up at the thought, and then he’s running down the corridor, taking the steps two at a time. He pays no attention to speed limits as he drives through the city, and when he finally gets to the library, he spots a familiar figure crouched down at the entrance, staring at the two lions.

As Harvey gets closer to the crouching Mike, he realises that the man’s wearing one of Harvey’s old Harvard hooded sweatshirts, one that matches the one Harvey’s currently wearing. The sight of Mike dressed in it makes Harvey’s heart leap, giving him hope that all isn’t lost between them, because Mike’s _wearing his clothes_.

Harvey doesn’t say anything when he comes to a stop beside Mike, just turns and looks up at the library. The silence between them isn’t exactly comfortable, not like it usually is – _was_ – and eventually, Harvey breaks it. “Donna told me about your grandmother. I’m sorry.”

Mike bounces slightly, not looking at him. “No, you’re not. What do you want, Harvey?”

Harvey feels like he’s been punched in the gut because he _is_ , and why would Mike think he wasn’t? But Mike had asked him a question, had opened up for conversation, and that was what was important. “I want…” He trails off, not sure where to start making Mike understand everything.

The tiny bitter smile that plays at Mike’s lips has Harvey wincing. “Want what, Harvey?”

Harvey takes a breath, steadying himself. “Why’d you leave?”

Mike is silent for a long time, giving Harvey a chance to study his face closer. There are dark circles under Mike’s eyes, his face lined with exhaustion and sadness, and Harvey can’t quite wrap his mind around the fact that he helped put them there, helped to remove the bright spark in the younger man’s eyes. Before Harvey can say anything else, though, Mike stands and answers. “There wasn’t any reason to stay.”

Harvey clenches his jaw because there _had_ been reasons to stay, lots of them. “So, you just throw your entire future away on a whim? Down a couple of drinks and throw in the towel?”

Mike snorts, harsh, grating, and disbelieving. “We both know that there wasn’t really a future for me there, Harvey. No degree, remember? They would have found out eventually. And yes, I downed a couple of drinks, but I didn’t throw in the towel.”

Harvey reaches out to grip Mike’s arm as the other man swings a leg over his bike, desperation starting to rear it’s head in his heart. “I love you.”

Mike’s gaze slowly lifts from where Harvey’s hand is gripping his arm, and he looks right at Harvey. His eyes are almost blank except for a tiny thread of disappointment. Mike pulls his arm out of Harvey’s grip and rides off without saying anything, but Harvey gets the message loud and clear.

As Harvey sinks to the ground and watches Mike ride off, he wonders in stunned anguish just how a young pothead with an eidetic memory managed to turn his life upside down so thoroughly that Harvey can no longer function without him there.

~*~

Harvey had meant to be a visible presence at the funeral, had meant to stand beside Mike and offer his support, but instead he stands by a tree on the outskirts, feeling much like a cliché from a movie as he watches the funeral from afar. It’s a gorgeous service, simple and to the point, much like Mike’s grandmother. He leaves before he’s noticed, although he thinks Mike might have seen him a couple of times during the service, and he heads back to his apartment.

As it has been for the past 5 weeks, his apartment is cold and empty with reminders of Mike scattered everywhere. He’d been tempted to remove all reminders after the kitchen incident, but it would have meant moving to a new place with brand new furniture, taking nothing but himself. He didn’t, because after a couple of days, he reasoned that if he couldn’t have Mike himself, he could at least have the reminders.

There’s one reminder though that draws him the most. The blanket. Mike had bought it for the nights they curled up on the couch together, and although it was the most hideous shade of green Harvey had ever seen, and despite his teasing of Mike over buying it, Harvey had soon fallen in love with the soft texture of the material. He’d often curl up under it when waiting for Mike to get home, breathing in the lingering smell of his lover and falling asleep.

Since Mike had walked out of his life, Harvey had found that he slept better – as in a full three hours – when he was wrapped up in the blanket on the couch. He didn’t always sleep there, only when the loneliness got too much to handle, because he didn’t really want to lose Mike’s scent. It was, simply put, his security blanket, and it’s what he goes to now.

He wraps the green monstrosity around him and curls up on the couch, facing the back and burying his nose in the material and breathing deep. Mike’s scent isn’t as strong as it used to be, but it’s still there, and Harvey drifts off to sleep pretending that he’s got Mike in his arms instead of empty air, an idea slowly forming at the back of his mind.

Harvey spends the next couple of nights on the couch in the blanket and then, on Tuesday morning, puts it in a small box with a note, wraps it up, and hand delivers it to Mike’s door when he knows Mike’s at work. He times it so that he’s literally just turned a corridor in the apartment building when Mike comes home from the library, and he watches as Mike stares at it for a bit before nudging it. Harvey gives a soft chuckle at the action, and smiles when Mike opens the door and nudges the parcel inside, door closing behind both it and the man.

Satisfied that he’s done all he can, Harvey leaves.

~*~

“Why did you do it?”

Harvey blinks up at Donna, startled. “Pardon?”

Donna crosses her arms and studies him thoughtfully. “Mike. Why did you let him believe that you were afraid to come out of the closet?”

Harvey leans back in his seat, checking to make sure his office door is closed. “You know why.”

Donna hums. “What are you going to do to fix it?”

“There’s nothing I _can_ do, Donna. I’ve told him I’m sorry, and I’ve told him that I love him. He chose to either not believe me, or to ignore it, I’m not sure which.”

“You told him that the morning of Grams’ funeral.” Donna retorts.

Harvey blinks again. “How did you know that?”

Donna waves a hand. “He told me at lunch today. Look, you’re miserable, _he’s_ miserable, do something to make him believe it or notice it.”

“Like what?” Harvey rolls his eyes. “He’s not exactly a roses, chocolates and poetry…” He trails off, remembering back to a rainy night and a conversation about poetry. “Donna, you’re a genius.”

“I am?” Donna asks blankly. A grin slowly starts to appear. “I am, aren’t I? Willing to let me in on this little plan?”

Harvey quickly brings up google on his computer. “Roses, chocolates and poetry.”

Donna quirks an eyebrow. “You do remember that Mike isn’t female, yes?”

“I need an envelope.” Harvey tells her, pulling a piece of paper towards him and neatly writes the poem down. Donna sighs and goes to get one.

Later that night, when Harvey knows that Mike is at the home playing bridge with Donna, Rachel and the old folks, he slips the envelope under Mike’s door, and then heads for the grocery store. He has an onion to buy.

~*~

Harvey has never been overly fond of Valentine’s Day. He finds it crass, too commercialised and far too pink for his liking. He’s always made sure that there was no one in his bed on Valentine’s Day, mostly because they expected romance and declarations, two things that he Did Not Do. Of course, the fact that he was doing both of those this year shows how much Mike has gotten under his skin. (Even though they’d had a Valentine’s Day when they were together, they’d had to pull an all-nighter. It hadn’t even been mentioned in passing.)

It takes ten minutes of charm for the woman at the front desk of the library to escort  him to Mike’s office and then back down to the entrance. Then, he goes and lurks near Mike’s apartment building, waiting for the younger man to leave. Once he has, he sneaks upstairs, picks the lock to Mike’s apartment (he really needs to talk to him about that), and then tapes a piece of paper with the poem written on it on the bedroom door.

Harvey means to leave straight away, he really does, but he spots the Blanket on the couch. He takes two steps towards it, fingers brushing against the material wistfully. He’s lost count of how many weeks it’s been since he last held Mike in his arms, since he last kissed him. It’s gotten to the point where he’s used to running on little to no sleep a night, used to the shadows under his eyes, used to the lack of appetite, but…it’s not easier, not happier. He misses Mike with a strength he didn’t know could happen, and seeing the Blanket, seeing it unfolded and spread out on a corner of the couch as though Mike uses it…it gives him hope that one day, one day soon, the two of them will be curled up under it again.

He makes sure to lock the door on his way out. He doesn’t want _anyone_ to steal the Blanket.

~*~

Harvey’s pacing his apartment when the text message comes through, and he stares at the message, not sure what he’s meant to do with it. He hadn’t thought beyond the onion, beyond the ‘Emily, I love you’, beyond the poems. He hadn’t thought about what would happen if the onion, the ‘Emily, I love you’ and the poems _hadn’t_ worked, but the proof is there, twinkling at him from his phone.

‘Stop hiding behind other people’s words, Harvey.’

He can’t talk to Donna (Rule One When Working With Donna: Don’t Interrupt on Valentine’s Day), so he goes to the next best thing.

He goes to Rick Castle.

Rick opens the door and stares at him for a solid five minutes before stepping to one side. “I’m going to need alcohol for this, aren’t I?”

“Possibly.” Harvey admits, hanging his coat up in the near-by closet.

Rick wanders over to the kitchen. “Are _you_ going to need alcohol for this?”

“There is not enough in the world.” Harvey slides onto one of the tall stools and buries his head in his arms.

“Okay, oh-heartless-one, why are you here on Valentine’s Day looking like you’ve lost the love of your life?” Rick sets a tumbler containing a finger’s worth of scotch in front of Harvey, ice cubes clacking softly.

And just like that, Harvey spills the entire story. He doesn’t expect Rick to burst out laughing at the end of it. “What?”

“It’s the dinosaur story!” Rick crows. “You two are the dinosaurs! Oh, this is just golden.”

Harvey points a finger. “I do not understand you on the best of days, and today is not one of those.”

Rick grins and bounces over to the bottom of the stairs. “Alexis! Bring down the dinosaur love story! Harvey’s decided to become the Dinosaur!”

There’s a high-pitched squeal, and then a door slams, a familiar red-headed teenager running down the stairs to throw herself at Harvey. “Harvey!”

“Alexis.” Harvey gives the teen a quick hug. “Your father’s gone crazy.”

“He’s always been crazy.” Alexis pops up onto the stool next to Harvey and hands him a tiny book. “Here.”

Harvey raises a brow at the illustration of the two dinosaurs on the front cover. “A Lovely Love Story by Edward Monkton?”

“Read it.” Rick orders, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

Harvey does, and once he’s finished, he looks at Rick with horror. “I’m the Dinosaur and Mike’s the Lovely Other Dinosaur.”

“So, when do we to meet him?” Alexis asks curiously, munching on a carrot stick.

“At the rate Dinosaur here is going, never.” Rick chirps and quickly fills her in on the details.

Alexis promptly slaps the back of Harvey’s head. “Idiot. Did you, or did you not, read that book?”

“I’m trying!” Harvey defends. “He’s just…look.” He digs his phone out and shows them the message. “How do I take that? How do I fix this when he sends me things like that?”

They both look at him like he’s mad, and then Alexis turns to her father. “Have you still got what’s-her-name’s number?”

Rick gives her an offended look, phone already out. “Of course I do.”

Harvey looks between them. “Are you going to let me in on this little plan?”

Alexis smiles and Harvey has the strangest urge to run screaming, because he’s seen that look on Donna’s face before, and it never heralds anything good. “You are going to come out of the closet with a bang.”

Harvey drops his head to the counter with a groan. He never should have come to the Castles for help. Never.

~*~

They let Donna in on the plan the next morning, and her glee is slightly worrying. When he complains to Mary-Ann, she calls him chicken-shit again, just like she has since the Shindig, and hangs up on him.

Sitting down with Josie and doing the interview is harder than Harvey thought it would be. Saying to her bluntly that he’s gay isn’t the hard bit, it’s everything else that is. They do the interview in Harvey’s apartment, Josie in an armchair that neither he or Mike used much, Harvey sitting in the corner of the couch. Rick, Alexis and Donna are pretending to not listen in from the kitchen as Josie goes from question to question, gradually getting him to open up about who he really is, what he really feels.

“I was a chicken-shit.” Harvey tells Josie bluntly in response to one question. “Ask anyone and they’ll agree. I’ve always been discrete in who I took to my bed, but I’ve never actively hidden it. I was never in the closet. Or at least, I was, but the door was wide open, and anyone that thought to look would have been able to see everything. But those one night stands were just that, one nighters. This…this was different.” Harvey stares down at his glass of water. “It’s like I manoeuvred myself so that I was between him and that open door, preventing anyone from seeing what we were. It was stupid, so incredibly stupid, but…I was afraid by how deeply I loved him, afraid of losing him, and in the end, that fear drove him from me. I can only hope that by facing who I truly am, that he can forgive me, because I’m Dinosaur and he’s my Lovely Other Dinosaur.” He looks up to find that Josie’s staring at him wide-eyed and teary, and frowns. “Are you…?”

Josie waves a delicate hand. She’s exactly what he would have taken to bed before Mike, and the fact that he’s not even tempted by her now is surprisingly pleasing. “Whoever this guy is, Harvey, must be something really special. Your reputation has you as a completely heartless bastard, and yet…”

Harvey smiles a little. “Like I said, he’s my Lovely Other Dinosaur.”

~*~

Two weeks after Valentine’s Day, and a week after Harvey does the interview, the magazine hits the shops. Harvey spends the day out of the office, meeting with clients at their homes and avoiding anyone who works for PH, aside from Donna and Ray. He’s restless, barely able to concentrate, and it’s only through Ray continually playing Coltrane that Harvey makes it through the day without screaming at the top of his lungs.

At some point, though, he has to return to PH, and he manages to make it to his office without somebody stopping or commenting. He has literally only just sat at his desk when his cell rings and he stares at it in surprise as it flashes Mike’s name at him. Donna waves at him frantically from her desk, and Harvey manages to pick it up and answer without dropping the device. “Mike?”

“I don’t…” Mike trails off brokenly, defeatedly, and something in Harvey unclenches. “What do you want, Harvey?”

“You.” The answer is out before Harvey thinks about it. “No lies, no hiding, no running.”

“No blonde-34C-legs up to _here_ -very female-bartender-slash-model?”

Harvey can hear the jealousy underneath the uncertainty, and it makes him grin. “Mike, love, I promise there was never anyone but you.” The endearment makes him blink, it having slipped out without him thinking about it.

“Liar.” Mike accuses. “I saw her. You brought her.”

“True.” Harvey has to grant that much, at least. As soon as he and Mike are back to being _heandMike_ , he’ll explain about Mary-Ann. “But we parted ways as soon as you left the bar. Nothing happened. I’ve been too caught up in you since we started this relationship.”

“And since it ended?”

Harvey feels like someone’s punched him in the gut. Never, in all the time since the Shindig, did he think that the relationship between he and Mike had ended, not really. Mike gone? Yes. A gaping hole in his life? Yes. But ended? “Love, it never ended. Just took a detour.”

Mike gives a laugh, incredulous and disbelieving. “Harvey…”

“Take me back, love.” Harvey straightens in his chair and clenches his fist where it rests on his desk. “Say yes.”

There’s a small pause before Mike speaks again, quiet and hesitant but every word dripping with the answer Harvey begged for. “Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred, then another thousand, then a second hundred, then yet another thousand, then a hundred.”

“Catullus.” Harvey grins. Only Mike. “And if I can’t hide behind another person’s words, neither can you.”

Mike’s laugh this time around is filled with light and joy. “Fine. Answer’s yes, you heartless bastard.”

Harvey leans back in his chair, hooking an arm over a corner of the backrest and staring up at the ceiling lazily. “Considering my parents were married when they had me, I’m definitely not a bastard. As for heartless, well, considering that you’re currently holding my heart, I’d definitely say I was heartless.”

Mike makes a small sound. “Fine time for you to use your own words.”

“I thought it was the perfect time.” Harvey feels like he’s completely boneless, the tension and weight of the past couple of months gone. “Dinner?”

“What are we having?”

The side of Harvey’s mouth quirks. “Entrée is a face-to-face apology, and then I was thinking I might get started on those kisses.”

Mike laughs again and it sends a shiver down Harvey’s spine. He’s missed that sound. “I love you.”

Harvey gives into the smile. “I love you, too. And you won’t believe how much I regret not saying that to you earlier.”

“You’ll make up for it, starting tonight.”

Harvey feels his smile widen at the tone just as Jessica walks into his office. “Deal. Jessica’s just walked in, I’ve got to go. Love you.” Jessica’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Say hello for me, and I love you too.”

Harvey disconnects the call and raises a brow at the staring Jessica. “Yes?”

“You’re in a good mood.” Jessica says cautiously.

“I have a date with the love of my life that will lead to many, many, many more. Donna, I need – “

“Already done. Everything you need for dinner should be in your kitchen as of now.” Donna tells him smugly through the intercom. “I’ve also arranged for a large bouquet of flowers to be delivered to Rick and Alexis – one each – and one to Josie. I’ve also changed your schedule so that you can leave early today and don’t have to come in again until gone lunch on Monday, because I have no doubt on what the two of you will be doing all weekend.” Harvey rolls his eyes at Jessica. “I saw that! I’ll have you know that you two have put me through hell these past couple of months, so I am claiming the right to organise your wedding.” Harvey opens his mouth. “The wedding rings are already sitting in the top draw of my desk and I will gladly give them to you next week when you ask me for them.”

Jessica giggles at the look on Harvey’s face, but he can’t find it in him to complain, because he has Mike back and everything’s right in his world.

~*~


	3. Notes

Right, so there's been a bunch of references and quotes in this thing, and I haven't always acknowledged their sources in the chapter, so:

 

\- 'So long and thanks for all the fish’ and ‘Don’t forget your towel’ is a reference to Douglas Adams and the Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

\- The two lions at the front of the NYPL actually _are_ nicknamed Patience and Fortitude.

\- The poem starting ' _Heart of the heartless world'_ are two the first 2 stanzas from John Cornford’s Huesca.

\- The Lovely Love Story actually  _is_ a book that is absolutely adorable. You can find it here: 

[http://www.amazon.com/Lovely-Love-Story-Edward-Monkton/dp/0740763083/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1321954393&sr=1-1](http://www.amazon.com/lovely-love-story-edward-monkton/dp/0740763083/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=utf8&qid=1321954393&sr=1-1)


End file.
